


Guiding Hand

by cyfarwydd



Series: Multi-Fandom Prompt Fics [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Fluff, M/M, Sentinel/Guide, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-11
Updated: 2011-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyfarwydd/pseuds/cyfarwydd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny is a Sentinel and Steve is his Guide- he has no idea how it works, but there's no denying that it does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guiding Hand

Danny's parents finally started believing in his _gifts_ when he was eight and his brother put itching powder in his bed. Before then they had never known that he was any _different_ than anyone else.

 

He never mentioned that he could see the writing on the sides of planes as they flew by or that sometimes his clothes _burned_ as they brushed against his skin, fresh from the wash.  And when he did, his parents had laughed and patted him on the head and told him what an _imagination_ he had , called him temperamental when he snapped because the sounds were too loud and the colors too bright, and where did he get such sensitive skin from? It must be allergies.

 

They noticed that it was a bit more than that when he walked into the room he shared with Matty and immediately turned to glare at his brother who was following closely behind him.  He stamped his foot and pushed him, not too hard ‘cause he was smaller and younger and Danny had to watch out for him, but enough that he stumbled out of the room and into the hallway.

 

His father, who had been herding them in to get them settled for bed started yelling, grabbing Danny’s shoulder and asking him what he was doing.

 

Danny crossed his arms, kicking out his leg and scuffing his socked foot on the floor as he glared at the scratched hardwood. 

 

“Matty _put_ something in my bed! It smells funny and _bad_. It makes my nose burn!” His father stared at him with tired eyes as he dropped to his knees, resting his large hands on Danny's set shoulders.

 

"Danny, you can't keep making things up like that. And it's _no_ excuse to hit your brother."

 

Almost in tears, Danny implored him, "Just _look_ Pop! He did, I _swear_." His father looked like he was about to say no when he glanced to the side and saw Matt standing there with wide eyes, looking nervous, which made his father narrow his own, getting up and walking into the room to lift the covers.

 

From across the room, Danny saw the thin layer of powder across the sheets; no one would notice it by slipping under the covers but when you actively looked for it, even someone with normal vision could've seen it.

 

His dad shook his head, running a hand over his face as he turned to Matty, frowning at him, "I'll talk to _you_ later. Go tell your mother what you've done- don't! Don't try to explain it Matthew, you know this was wrong, especially with your brother's-" his eyes flicked over to Danny "- _allergies_." His lip trembling, Matty complied, head down-turned and dejected as he slumped down the stairs.

 

Danny jumped as his Pop patted him on the shoulder, pulling him over to sit on Matty's bed.

 

"You weren't joking, were you? About seeing all those things. You weren't exaggerating."

 

Danny felt indignation burn low in his gut, bunching up his small fists in the covers.

 

" _No_! I _never_ lied. I really did see all that stuff, and I hear what you and Ma' say about me after you think I'm asleep. About how there's something _wrong_ with me and maybe I should go to a doctor or something, a head one. But I don't _need_ to Pop! There's nothing wrong with my head."

 

His father looked shocked, then wary as he put his elbows on his knee, resting his head on his hands.

 

"I'm sorry Danny, we never- you were never meant to hear those things."

 

That was when they started searching, for what he was, testing him, finding out his limits. They learned that he could see farther than binoculars, that he could smell individual components of various scents, narrow his vision almost _microscopically_ , that his skin could pick up textures that were agonizing to him, like sandpaper, while no one else felt a thing. They learned he was a _Sentinel_.

 

It wasn't anything well known, and it had taken his father _years_ to find, chancing upon it when he was on the verge of giving up, desperate in his need to not be crazy, to know that what his son had wasn't just some anomaly. That he had a _purpose_.

 

And he found it in an anthropological study written by a man named Burton. He showed the book to Danny later that day after he had read through it, explaining the words he didn't understand and hugging him when Danny asked _why?_ Why did he have to be a Sentinel.

 

His father looked at him, locking his blue eyes with Danny's- the same eyes he'd had passed on to Danny, the ones that had watched burning buildings collapse, people still inside because no one smelled the smoke in time, children dying as he was carrying them, not even crying because the fire had burned so strong and so hot so that they didn't even feel anything as their life faded out of them amongst the rubble, because no one had heard their cries and they'd been left behind. 

 

His father stared at him and he said, "To help people, Danny. To _protect_ them."

 

That was how Danny became a cop.

 

~

 

They had decided on it early on, Danny didn't think he could handle the constant flare-ups he'd get from being a firefighter like his Pop, and it felt _right_ , like maybe it was his purpose, and not just because his dad had said so. He _wanted_ to do the right thing, he needed to protect others, his tribes.

 

His father helped as much as possible, as did the rest of his family- trying to keep a constant watch on him so when he 'zoned out' they would be able to snap him out of it by yelling at him, calling his name, pinching his skin. He did as much as he could to hone his senses, which were erratic at bet, but manageable.

 

Danny became known as something of a hot-head; he had never been able to get over snapping at people when his senses went haywire, and being able to hear exactly what everyone thought about him when they whispered it to their friends did nothing to endear them to him. But it became something of an asset later on, especially at the academy where he was able to hold his own, where no one gave him bullshit despite his small stature or his blond hair because they grew to respect him.

 

That respect rose even higher when his solve rate went through the _roof_. He had to be careful not to let too much slip, because  his parents had decided early on that being _special_ in the way he was, might not be something they'd want to advertise lest it attracted too much attention, a little _too_ much curiosity. So he used what he could, but he was attentive, he made sure to play everything _exactly_ by the book- not caring if people mocked him for being a busybody or a stickler, because the book kept him _sane_. It made it so that his senses weren't constantly getting out of hand.

 

He had never really bought into this _Guide_ thing the book had made reference to, someone to help him gain control. Because if, after all his Pop had done for him, he wasn't it? Then Danny had no idea who'd be able to make his control any better. Who would be able to do what 35 years of living with them and 27 years actively trying to manage them couldn't.

 

That was before he met Steve McGarrett.

 

The man threw out the rule book, he burned it, he didn't even seem to know there _was_ one. He was sporadic, irritating, and had more violent tendencies than Danny knew how to _handle_ without reporting him, because honestly, who would he report him to? He was the boss, the Governor didn't seem to care much either way as long as he got the job done. Basically he was everything that should drive Danny crazy, everything he should _hate_.

 

He was Danny's Guide, and Danny found that he couldn't stay mad at him if he _tried_. Which he did, on multiple occasions.

 

Yet no matter how many times he tried to argue, to yell, Steve just grinned at him, telling him to relax in that cocky voice of him and of all things, Danny _did_ , tension flowing out of his body in a wave even as he tried to keep yelling, his fondness, his _gratefulness_ making it more playful than annoyed.

 

And the first time Danny nearly collapsed while taking shelter behind a car under a hail of gunfire, his hearing cranking up until each shot was _deafening_ , until he couldn't even function anymore, he felt nothing but pain until a warm hand rested over his eyes, breath gusting by his ear as Steve told him to tell him what was wrong, what was _happening._

 

Strangely his voice didn't pain Danny further, instead he focused in on the timbre of it, the cadence of his words until it was only slightly too loud, then normal- for him at least. When he came out of it, Steve was sitting beside him, arm wrapped around his shoulder as he stared at Danny stonily, concern lurking heavy in his eyes. Later, after they had dealt with the traffickers and Steve drove Danny over to his place, he sat them down, handing Danny a beer and telling him that he was going to tell Steve what had happened, tell him everything.

 

Danny did. He was so _tired_. Tired of always being in pain, things never quite feeling right or things tasting so _off_ some days that he couldn't seem to stomach a thing even though he was weak with hunger. Having to keep such a tight _rein_ on _everything_ until he could barely stand to listen to people talk, until he just wanted to be alone, secluded and away from all the distractions- but he never could, because he was a protector, he was a Sentinel, and he could never abandon his job, his daughter, his _people_.

 

Steve had become one of those people, and he took Danny's revelations surprisingly seriously. Like he could tell that Danny truly _meant_ what he was saying, and Danny knew Steve _had_ to have noticed some of the things he managed on the job. Picking up a scent but saying he saw the perp running that way, throwing an arm across his chest in the pitch black darkness on a stake out because he had been about to step on a tripwire, which Steve only noticed when he shone his light down and bent to inspect the trap, the metal of the wire dulled and stained a muddy brown, barely discernible against the forest floor.

 

When Danny mentioned the book, the only one he or his father had ever been able to find that made any mention of Sentinels, he demanded to see it, and Danny could find him reading it and obviously re-reading it for weeks afterwards when he walked into the office.

  
Steve started testing him, keeping track of where his senses were, and utilizing them whenever he could. Instead of spiraling out of control, like they would've any other time Danny focused so fully on them, they honed in, strengthened but not overwhelmed under Steve's steady voice and strong hand. Eventually, Danny had more power over them than ever before, until he hadn't had a zone out in _months_ and if he was ever having problems all he had to do was call Steve and he would be on his way before Danny could even tell him it was alright, arriving in a spray of gravel and running to meet him where he had collapsed due to sensory overload, talking him down and driving him to his home where he made Danny sleep on the bed, taking the couch.

 

One night, after he noticed how longingly Steve was looking at him when he thought Danny wasn't looking, he told him to stop being such an idiot and just get in bed already.

 

Danny found out that Steve was just as good of a Guide in bed as he was out of it.


End file.
